


Summer Break

by Adamantite



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Gender-neutral Reader, Reader-Insert, really platonic relationships w/ the bros for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 21:17:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12873219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adamantite/pseuds/Adamantite
Summary: A certain incident has left you a little worse for wear and in a forced suspicion. With the ever present allure of a bounty, you've been carted off to Insomnia to stay with your father. Although you could see the ulterior motives of both your parents, there wouldn't be much harm in exploring the city he protected and live under his legend.As you recover, you might even make a couple of friends.





	Summer Break

Bored.

The cascade of jewels crashing and an “Excellent” flashed obnoxiously. The same formula of matching similar colors and shapes with the difficulty increasing until you threw money to continue your progress. Another app installed and uninstalled in the past hour.

Voices filtered through the closed door across from you. A short chat over patrols leading to a conversation on security measures you couldn’t be privy to. You had been shuttled out and given a boundary to roam around. Your father stressing to keep your guest pass visible.

A nap sounded like a good idea. You had your suitcase fluffed and a few hours of sleep lost in your nerves on the trip over here. Your cap could block out the blaring sun, filtering into the corridors.

There wasn’t a second thought about your surroundings until the fourth passerbyer.  

They slowed their pace and paused a little too long.

“[Name]? Are you feeling unwell?” a woman asked.

Maybe, sleeping in the middle of the hall was a little suspicious.

“Just bored,” you sighed, tipping your hat up.

It was strange to see the familiar woman without her usual uniform of all black. She always carried a more stern look but, the same amount of papers.  

You stood up to properly greet her, “It’s been awhile, Ms. Monica.”

“It has. Although, it doesn’t feel like it,” she smiled but, a slip of concern fell into her expression. “Are you really feeling alright? There’s a doctor on duty here.”

“I’m fine. I’m fine. Most of my injuries healed up awhile back,” you rolled your shoulder.

There was still a slight pain but, not enough for it to show on your face. You could already hear the old doc back home, a heavy book and his throwing arm at the ready, scolding you.

Monica hesitated then nodded, “Understood. Let me know if you need anything during your stay.”

“I’ll be in your care,” you grinned at her. “Thanks, Ms. Monica.”

“Of course, [Name]. Have a good day,” she said.

“You, too!” you waved at her. 

As she turned the corner, your attention went back to the door. Patience only came to you during a fight. Otherwise, you were at the whim of your restlessness. Usually, there was something that you could occupy your time. 

But, it wasn't like you could knock and ask how much longer. Tagging along with Monica couldn't be an option since she must be busy with her own duties. You also didn’t have the energy to deal with any other strangers for today.

Stretching your legs out, you reached your final decision. You moved your bags next to the door.

A walk would feel nice and you could admire the architecture of the Citadel.

In other words, try to cope with how the skyscrapers towered over you and the constant noise of the city. All of which were making you miss the open plains of Leide, where, instead of buildings carving into the horizon, mountains and plateaus were scattered across the land.

The dry air and a blazing sun, constant reminders to keep your water supplies in check. Leide was where life continued to survive even in the harshest conditions. Your home.

The open aired corridors barely gave a view of the surrounding buildings. It was a relief when you glided above the clusters of buildings on the highways. The forests of Duscae never suffocating you the way the city did.  

Sure, Insomnia held beauty in its own way. Streetlights lighting the dark morning as people began to wake. Bright screens advertising and shining the busy streets. The constant stream of brake lights as you witnessed the largest gathering of cars. Everything constantly moving, never falling still.

You laughed to yourself.

Barely the first day and you were already homesick. The three month stay would give a challenge for your wandering heart. Friendless and lost in a city you’ve only ever imagined visiting when you were bright-eyed. 

Well, you still kept some childlike wonder in you but, life beyond the wall demanded more. Turning the corner, you shifted your hat down at the sound of voices.

Another round of questions would be a hassle.

Walking around with your father, suitcase wheeling had brought up questions that he luckily dodged. You hid behind him at every call. A habit engraved in you since you were young. All you needed to do was flash a smile while he dodged every question about your identity. It was decided that you would keep your visit as quiet as possible. You were a simple guest visiting the Citadel.

Despite the secrecy, there was a man you were formally introduced to. The man that your father was currently meeting with welcomed you with open arms. He told of a few stories of their past travels as you told some of yours. 

You enjoyed the younger version of your father. More stubborn. Apparently, fearless to a fault and lacking any common sense in what was feasible possible.

It was fun until patrols were brought up. Now, you were stuck between sneaking into a room or, taking the gamble that you won’t be asked any questions. You slipped into an open door at hearing the voices come closer.

Leaning on the door, you waited as the voices passed to the next hall.

It only took a quick glance to notice swords laid in the middle of the large room. Empty, for now, and the columns reminding you of some of the ruins scattered in Duscae. You assumed it was a training room thanks to the rack of other weapons lining the walls.

It’s been awhile since you properly trained or, did anything that would overexert you.

Weighing the sword, it was a tad lighter to what you handled. You weren’t burdened by your usual gear. A couple of drills wouldn’t be too hard on your body. Enough days had past for you to recover.

You stood in the first stance you learned and swung down.

In a city like Insomnia, you wondered how common it was to know how to wield a weapon. Lestallum was the largest city beyond the wall. It was a relatively safe, where monsters and beasts could barely reached.

The scattered towns of Lucis were independently sufficient and safe. Even beyond them, you only ever got mauled if you stayed out too late or wandered beyond the roads.

You could have just stayed in Lestallum, or one of the outlying towns, for an easy summer job. Your friends even had one lined up for you. But, no thanks to your parents’ blood, you wanted more.

Your dogtags clattered together as you chained your attacks.

Hunts were quick money and the best way to hone your skills. They pushed you and probably saved you that day.

You swung down, enjoying the whistle in the air. It felt odd to go back to drills after so long. You moved onto another stance. One your father always began with. Sword close to your improvised sheath.

A song began to play in your head. Swiping forward, the momentum caught at your sword as it moved with each beat. You focused on your footwork, hitting at invisible monsters. Different patterns they followed came to mind.

Music got you out of the dullness of drills and helped with easing you into more unpredictable strikes. More so with the song you heard earlier on one of Insomnia’s radio stations.

You mother had convinced you when you were young that footwork could be bettered by learning to dance. It worked and she had you dancing with her as she cooked dinner. The radio crackled out the same old songs.

All of which you learned by heart. Mainly to annoy your fellow Hunters when they complained about the radio not reaching far enough.

It wasn’t until your sword caught another did you noticed you had an audience. Before you could scold yourself for lowering your guard, you saw his dark uniform. The same emblem Monica wore on her uniform.

Your eyes swept up to see questions in his amber eyes. Towering over you, his strength began to push you. Your footing faltered so you dived out.

The man swung the sword onto his shoulder with a frown. You rarely faced off against anything too large. You were use to quick claws but, that still didn’t mean you couldn’t handle your own against a garula.

Stepping forward, he seemed raring to continue the spar. The slight quirk of his lips inviting an attack. You frowned and tipped your cap up to get a better take on his features. He’d have strength and build to his advantage. Years of experience since he seemed to be in a Crownsguard uniform.

His stance seemed standard. Something you started out with before your dad began to teach a bit of his own style. The shortened hilt on the training sword would need some getting use to. You pointed the sword down, blade hovering over the ground.

No sand to flick his way. Columns were spaced out so there were a couple of things to hide behind. No chance of outrunning him or hiding behind a bush. Leide had more environment to offer than the cool marble of the room.

You stayed silent. You weren’t planning to make the first move and had all the time in the world for the other to make his move. Patience in battle ran deep in your blood.

Your only concern was your shoulder and a few other injuries.

Heavy footsteps charged. You stood ready for the barrage of heavy strikes. They came down hard but without the ruthlessness you were use to. Even so, there wasn’t a chance you were going to land a hit. Not until you were a good distance away.

Clatters of metal echoed in the room. Shoes squeaked the smooth floor.  You persevered, noticing gaps between swings. The attacks came in bursts. They were meant to test your defenses. Your father always threw this in during training. He was aiming for your weakened side. The man must have picked up on your aching shoulder.

Endurance never was your strong suit.

The growing pain in your shoulder wasn’t helping. You needed to take the offense soon.  The spar would end when you got that sword out of his hands. It wouldn’t be easy but, it was your best bet.

It didn’t take much to remember all the times your father had skillfully disarmed you with a simple swipe. It shouldn’t be as hard now.

All you needed was an opportune moment.

A blaring ringtone split your ears. His eyes flashed to his pocket. His blade wavered. You grinned.  With a quick charge and twist of your blade, his sword clattered to the floor. A frown dawned on the man as you fished your phone out.

“Hey, pops,” you slowed your breathing and dropped the weapon.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Around,” you adjusted your cap, rushing out the room. “I’ll be right there.”

“Hey!” your opponent shouted after you. You gave a two fingered salute before slamming the door behind you.

That was enough meddling with things you weren’t suppose to for now. There was only so much trouble you could get out of with the thin, plastic badge clipped to your belt.

“Didn’t answer my question.”

“Technically, I did,” you ran down a hall before sliding to a stop.

“Technically, you didn’t,” his voice carried down the hall.

Two men stood in front of your luggage. Both wearing vastly different uniforms and expressions. One in better spirits and what was going to ease your lecture. He was the man from earlier, Clarus Amicitia, the King’s Shield, dressed in robes of black and gold trimmings.  

At his side was Cor Leonis, current Marshall of the Crownsguard. He shook his head. Your disheveled look didn’t go unnoticed.

After so many years of hearing your misadventures, witnessing your foolhardiness, and being the one that found out you had secretly joined the Hunters, he wondered what kind of trouble you could have made in the first few hours of entering Insomnia.

“Cor, The Restless,” Clarus chuckled. “I remembered your habit of wandering during our brief breaks. It is nice to see it runs in the family.”

“I reported back in time,” Cor said plainly, the taunt falling short from years of friendship.

You laughed along with Clarus, “So, that’s where I got it from.”

“You got it from your mother, kid,” he ignored your jab and picked up your bag. He paused.  “What did you bring in here?”

“Clothes,” you shrugged, keeping your expression leveled.

Cor narrowed his eyes at feeling the weight shift in the bag. There was a reason why you had guarded that bag until now. It sent you into a near panic when he shook it. The clanging of metal, silencing your lie.

He frowned, “Did you really bring your gear?”

“Maybe!” your hands eased the bag out of his.  

“Why?” he asked then shot a look to your suitcase. “Is the shield in there?”

“Maybe,” you shook your head yes.

Clarus let out another deep laugh that echoed in the hall. He clapped a hand onto the shoulder of a slightly exasperated Cor. It was a sight he rathered enjoyed, knowing his friend did experience the same joy and frustration children brought.  

“I’ll be taking my leave,” Clarus said. “Cor, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Until tomorrow,” he nodded.

Clarus turned to you, “I’ll be sure to arrange a time when I can introduce you to my children. Enjoy your stay in Insomnia, [Name].”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll look forward to it,” you smiled. He gave a nod before making his way down the hall.

“So, why the gear?” Cor turned to you, easing out of his strict demeanor.

“I wanted to see if we could get some practice in while I’m here,” you said. You picked up another of your bags and followed him down the other hall.

He sighed, “You're still recovering. The doctor said to ease off strenuous activities for a couple of weeks.”

“It’s been a good couple,” you tried to move away from the subject. Your father’s tone and mood had darkened.

‘I don’t want to have to bury you before my own time.’

The words weighed on your heart. They had broken you from the haze of pain and medication as you laid in a hospital bed with half your body caged in casts and bandages. A sobering memory.

“Anyways, I brought them for later on since I’m here for three months so, don’t worry,” you hefted your bag over your shoulder. “I am the child of 'The Immortal' after all.”  

Cor knew how heavy the weight of his name carried. He never intended to pass the burden of his legacy onto you and still didn’t. It was the reason your childhood was in Lestallum and the wilds of Lucis. Not trapped in the walls of Insomnia, where his name would be pushed onto you. It was why you had your mother’s maiden name.

But, you had grown strong and stubborn.

“[Name], The Reckless,” he finally said.

“Cor, The Impatient,” you retorted.

“I have a feeling you have a number of titles to add on,” Cor gave a smile.

“I can tell you over lunch, pops,” you bumped into him. “Take me to a diner that rivals Takka’s.”

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my non-canon AU, where stuff is kinda the same and the timeline doesn’t matter ‘cause fuck, Ardyn just makes things complicate to work around. 
> 
> The idea mostly came from me wanting to fight Gladio and have a rivalry story with him. Still working on whether I want this a year after Brotherhood stuff or as younger adults so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯.


End file.
